Agnes waved her hand. “As long as you put some effort into your introduction and don’t give him too much time to balk at the opportunity.”
“The ‘opportunity’ being you?” Molly pursed her lips. She wasn’t feeling very golden about this. Truth was, she needed some processing time.
“Yes, ma’am.” Agnes nodded her agreement.
Ma’am? Twice in one day. Did she suddenly age ten years overnight?
Molly was losing her mojo.
“You read up on the rules. I’ll color my hair. Then we’ll move on to the introduction phase,” Agnes said.
Agnes would color her hair? Agnes had never dyed her hair.
“Uh…” Molly cleared her throat.
“This is the part where you say, ‘yes, Agnes’ and go home to enter us.”
“What if he doesn’t want to be part of a matchmaking contest?” Molly asked because he was Mr. Davenport, and she couldn’t see him wanting to be part of much.
“’Yes, Agnes’ is all you need to say. I’ll handle the rest.”
Molly pulled her fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. “You’re not going to give me any other choice, are you?”
“Of course I’m not. I know what’s best for both of us.” Agnes finished the hamburger and folded the wrapper into a tidy square before tossing it into the trash bin.
Molly couldn’t help the grin spreading across her lips. “I would like it to be noted for posterity that I agreed to this only because youforcedme to agree.”
Agnes paused, then nodded. “Noted.”
“Okay, then.” Molly stood.
Agnes held her arms open for a hug. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. Six o’clock. On. The. Dot.”
Um. No. “Why that early?”
Molly was a solid eleven p.m. to bed and seven a.m. to rise kind of girl. One of the few good parts of being an adult was getting to make that choice for herself.
“So we can catch Charlie when he goes for his morning stroll. He passes in front of my door at precisely eight minutes after six.”
Uh… “You know his schedule?”
“Of course I do.”
“Agnes…” There was a fine line between being interested and being a stalker. Molly worried Agnes may be treading on the wrong side of that line.
Also, this was giving Molly minimal processing time.
“Don’t you start with me, missy. I take my coffee on the porch. It so happens that I take my coffee at the same time Charlie goes for his morning meander.”
“I will get up before six a.m.,” Molly said, resigned, “but only because it’s for you.”
“You’ve always been a good girl.” Agnes patted her cheek.
Molly had always been a good girl where her landlady was concerned. But right now? Right now she was questioning her willingness to do anything for her Agnes.
Chapter Eight
“Thank God for photos. I was sleep-deprived for 12 years and barely remember them growing up!” —Anonymous, New York, United States
